right back where we started from (california here we come)
by kay-emm-gee
Summary: When troubled teen Octavia Blake comes to live with the Griffin family, worlds collide as she and her street-smart brother Bellamy become entangled in the posh lifestyle of the Griffins and their friends and neighbors. Drama, romance, and more than a few laughs ensue as these teen delinquents try and find out just where they fit in the world. Or, The O.C. AU no one asked for.
1. Chapter 1

_That is a really frickin' big house_ was Octavia's first thought upon the car pulling into the long, barely-lit driveway. _If you could even call a palace like this a house_. It was eight times the size of the rundown two-bedroom ranch her family had briefly lived in when she was seven, and ten times larger than the barely-affordable apartment her brother and she had been calling home. Well, it had been home up until last week when she had gotten arrested for using a fake ID at a club (goddamn Jasper and his supposed 'top of the line' forger). So, the fact that she'd spent the last six nights in a juvenile detention cell no bigger than the fancy black car she was sitting in, and now she was going to be staying in this place, well, that was unbelievable.

"Home sweet home," her public defender said from the driver's seat, turning off the engine and shifting to look at her. Octavia snapped her gaze from the villa-style mansion to Jake Griffin's kind face. It was the same expression he had worn when he had sat across from the table in the juvenile detention center visitors' room that morning. Wearing a presumably expensive, sleek black suit and an even sleeker smile, he had told her he could get her charges down to a misdemeanor, meaning a fine and probation instead of jail time. He didn't stop there, though, no. He went through her grades (just above average) and her behavior record (not stellar), but he had smiled upon seeing her SAT scores, telling her that she had potential and how important it was to think about her future. _I'm on your side_, he had said.

Octavia had scoffed at that, and at his talk of college and big dreams. _Where I'm from, having a dream doesn't make you smart_, she had said. _Knowing it won't come true, now, that does_. Despite her conviction, she almost winced after saying it, because it would break her brother's heart to hear those words on her lips, not when he had tried so hard the last few years to make Octavia believe they could make it out of Chino. Bellamy still believed, for her, but she had given up that dream years ago, right around the time her mother had started trading sex for favors from her brother's probation officer. It hadn't gotten any better when her mother had died last year, leaving Bell and her to fend for themselves. The dream of rising past their background was best left in her childhood, along with her fairy spells and jungle games.

Jake must have sensed some of that hesitation, though, because he had handed her his card when he dropped her off at the foster home. Her brother's previous record for violent altercations had led the courts to believe he was an unfit guardian for her, even though most of that violence had been done to protect her (her mother's boyfriends were pieces of shit). They wouldn't even let her have Bellamy's new number to call him, something she had very vocally protested as soon as she walked in the door of the home, and up to her bedroom, and through that door when her foster mother had locked it behind her. Granted, Octavia had lobbed two pairs of shoes at the woman's head before the lock-in was enacted, but still, barring her in that tiny dark room, without dinner, was abuse, and _nobody_ did that to Octavia, nobody.

So, she had jimmied open the window, slipped out, and ran for it, her ratty backpack flopping behind her. Finally, she had stopped walking after about an hour and dug out her cell phone, but all of her numbers had been wiped. _Frickin' cops_. After a moment of panic, Octavia had stuck her hand into her pocket, retrieving the lawyer's business card. Squinting suspiciously at the lines of simple text, Octavia tried to determine if Jake was decent enough to not bring her back to that house of horrors. _I'm on your side,_ he had said. An hour after she had dialed the number, Jake had picked her up at the station, rolling down the window of his swanky car and saying in a wry, friendly tone, _You could do worse_.

Now, she was here, in Newport Beach, sitting in front of possibly the ritziest house she had ever seen, about to walk right inside. As she reached for the handle of the car door, though, Jake stopped her.

"Give me a minute? I need to talk to my wife, Abby," he said, before exiting the vehicle himself and disappearing through the glass door covered with intricately designed wrought iron.

Almost immediately after, Octavia left the car too, feeling trapped in the small interior, never having liked tight spaces. She sauntered down the perfectly smooth driveway (of course, no cracks or potholes in this neck of the woods), staring at the clear, dark night sky and the rows of just-as-grand houses dotting the hill descending below. At the end of the drive, she pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open (so 2003, but it was all Bellamy could afford), and punched out her brother's old number. Her eyes began to water when she heard the triple dial tone, followed by the mechanical voice saying _this number is no longer in service, blah blah blah_.

"Damn it," she muttered, rubbing the tears away before they could fall.

"Yeah, service around here sucks," a low voice called out.

Octavia jerked her head up and stared at the very tall, very _hot_ guy standing at the end of the driveway next to hers. He had on dark jeans and a loose white henley, the sleeves pushed halfway up. Under the shirt, Octavia could just barely make out the shadow of a tattoo on his left arm, sharp thick black lines weaving their way upwards, matching the edges peaking out from under his collar. He smiled at her inspection, but he was looking long and hard at her too, so she just smiled back.

"Good to know," she finally replied, stepping a bit closer. "I'm Octavia."

"Lincoln." He stuck out his hand, and Octavia stared at it for a second (because really, who at their age shook hands, but then again, he did look on the older side) before grasping it loosely. It was warm and firm and covered in callouses that brushed against her own rough palm. Her smile grew, and the guy ducked his head after letting go, clearly also amused. "You know the Griffins?" He continued.

"Yeah," Octavia replied vaguely.

"Family?"

Octavia hesitated for barely second. "Yeah." _It's not like she'd ever see this guy again, so why not go for the easy, normal answer?_ "From out east."

"Ah," Lincoln said with a slightly impressed tone. "The wonderkid from D.C. then. Fast-tracked for Georgetown and a career in business law, I hear?"

_I wish,_ Octavia thought bitterly, then let out a snort. "Nah, I'm the one from Baltimore who got herself arrested for repeated counts of underage drinking and can't live with her volatile, violent brother, so they shipped me out here to my rich relatives for rehabilitation."

She solemnly stared down Lincoln for a good minute, who was looking back at her with wide, startled eyes. Given his less-than-encouraging reaction, Octavia knew he wouldn't want to meet the real her. So, she cracked a grin and laughed. "Just kidding. I'm the one from D.C."

Lincoln let out a deep, alluring chuckle, causing Octavia's stomach to flip-flop at the sound. "Well, you certainly have a lawyer's poker face," he added.

"How did you know about me?" Octavia asked, just a bit curious as to how this guy knew Jake and his family.

"My dad and your mom? Best friends. Well, first friends, then they used to date, in high school, then friends again after college."

Octavia merely hummed in response, and Lincoln chuckled under his breath. "Newport Beach: where your past always comes back to haunt you. Or, live next door, in this case."

Throwing a nervous smile at him, Octavia certainly hoped her past would stay away, at least for the next two days. As she opened her mouth to ask him—well, she didn't know what, but she did know she wanted to keep talking to him—a large SUV pulled up, music blasting through the doors with a low, thumping bass.

"That's my ride," Lincoln said, walking to the car with a smile. He let his hand rest on the handle without opening the door, staring at her.

_Say something, you idiot,_ Octavia admonished herself. _It's not like you'll see him again, so make a memorable exit._ But her usually quick tongue felt think in her mouth, and before she could manage to get it working properly (_god_ what was wrong with her?), Jake called to her from up the driveway. So, she just grinned at him, waved, and threw a _'nice meeting you'_ over her shoulder as she jogged back up the driveway, happily feeling Lincoln's stare follow her until she rounded the bend in the Griffins' drive. _See ya never, mysterious hot guy,_ Octavia thought with a small laugh as the house came back into view.

Jake was standing on the front steps, holding the door open. "C'mon in, Abby is getting the pool house set up for you, so you'll have your own space for the weekend. Figured that's what you'd prefer."

Octavia studiously ignored the sympathy in Jake's eyes as she walked past him to enter, instead choosing to focus on the lavish interior of the house. It was really insane, the size of the rooms, the amount of furniture, and the expensive look of the décor. Everything coordinated, everything complimented. No vomit-stained couches or faded wallpaper, no grimy hand-me-down rugs, or chipped light fixtures. Amongst the wealth, she soon forgot any resentment towards Jake for his obvious pity of her situation, barely able to take in the information spilling out of his lips about the layout of the house and his family members. The mention of a daughter her age caught her attention briefly, but then Jake pushed open the doors to reveal an obscenely large pool and patio area overlooking the entire valley and the ocean. At that incredible sight, Octavia's mouth literally dropped wide open.

_No frickin' way._

"And there's your home for the next few days," Jake added, gesturing towards the cabana to their right, across the pool. Making their way over, Octavia felt her head start to get light, wondering if this was really happening. _This can't be real. Maybe you got into a fight with that scary chick (Anya, was that her name?) who glared at you at dinner last night, and she knocked you out and now you're in a coma, because no way this your life. A Blake never got this lucky, even for a weekend._

When they entered the pool house, though, Octavia knew this was all real, simply because of the expression on Abby Griffin's face. Sure, the woman with the thick dirty-blond hair was smiling at her, but it wasn't like Jake's kind, honest one. No, this smile Octavia knew quite well: utterly polite but also damningly fake and more than a tad wary. _Probably thinks I'm going to make off with her jewels_, Octavia thought as she grimaced an aggressive smile back, her eyes narrowing. Surprisingly, Abby didn't falter, instead took in a deep breath and let her smile slide into something a little more sincere.

"Hello, Octavia! I'm Abby. Welcome to our home. We hope you'll be comfortable here for the weekend."

Abby's voice was sweet but stiff, sounding a little like a hotel concierge. Strangely, it reminded her of Bell whenever child services came to sniff around and make sure that he wasn't screwing up his guardianship. So, she took pity on Abby and said, "Thank you, for letting me stay here. It means a lot."

"There are clean towels in the bathroom, and we'll be in the house if you need anything else." Abby looked around nervously but steadily for another second before nodding at her husband and exiting through one of the doors opposite the very large, very comfortable-looking bed.

"Clarke's already asleep, so you can meet her in the morning. Breakfast is around ten, but we're usually all up and about before then, so come on in and join us whenever you wake up," Jake finished off with another sincere smile as he also headed for the exit. "Sleep tight, kid."

The door clicked closed and Octavia stood motionless in the silent room for a long minute, breathing in the cool air. When she finally flopped down on the bed with a satisfying poof, she moaned at the softness of the comforter and pillows under her. She rolled to her side, yawning at the coziness of the bedding. Not even caring she was still wearing her jeans and grey zip-up, she let her eyes slide shut, grinning at the thought of Bell's disbelieving face when she tells him where she spent the weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke threw her paintbrush down on her palette, sighing at the horrendous sight in front of her. Her latest painting was a mess: the sky was too blue, the water too green, and the clouds looked like cotton balls. Really, it sucked, no matter what Wells said. She had stopped listening to his praise of her work years ago, because he was the type of best friend who always told her that she did well. On the days where she doubted herself or felt lonely, that was a good thing. And Clarke had a lot of those days, not being one of the typical Newport Beach girls who obsessed over celebrity breakups or couture clothes, rather more interested in the medical documentaries or the newest exhibit at the LACMA. Despite her mother's prominence in the community as a talented surgeon and one of the most active philanthropists in Newport, Clarke was a bit of a social outcast within her peers at Harborside Academy, deemed to intense or too serious. Wells, her next-door neighbor and best friend since third grade, was the only one who had really stuck by her through high school, and she loved him endlessly for that. When it came to art and criticism, though, he was a detriment. The college admissions staff viewing her application and portfolio wouldn't be nearly as forgiving as Wells, so his opinions were useless to her as anything except (a sometimes needed) ego-boost.

As Clarke went to pick up the brush again, resigned to at least attempting some kind of last-minute salvage, she heard the padding of soft footsteps on the pool tile behind her.

"Wow, that's almost as good as the real thing."

Clarke turned to see a girl standing behind her, staring with admiring eyes at her painting. An oversized grey hoodie overwhelmed her delicate figure, sliding lopsidedly off of one shoulder. Her long brunette hair was twisted up in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose around her impressed face.

"Octavia, right?" Clarke confirmed, remembering her dad's conversation with her earlier that morning, and the girl nodded. "Well, thank you, I'm glad one of us likes it."

"You don't?" Octavia asked, raising her sharp eyebrows.

"The colors are off, and the clouds look weird. They're too overwhelming."

Octavia just cocked her head a bit, spending another few seconds looking at the piece. "You're right. The sky needs to be lighter, right? And the ocean is a color that you'd find in a hospital because it's intended to be soothing but it just kind of makes you nauseous. Sorry," Octavia amended quickly. "Didn't mean that in a bad way. It's still pretty."

Clarke laughed at the uneasy expression on Octavia's face. "You're completely right," she said. "You know, not many people would be that honest."

"Bad habit of mine," Octavia said, with a sarcastic grin and no hint of apology.

"You could make that into a career," Clarke offered. "Art critics get paid to be honest, and brutally so. I wish I had more critiques like that. Pretty isn't going to get me into UC Berkley."

"You wanna go to college for art?"

"Sort of. And pre-med."

"Jesus," Octavia exclaimed. "That sounds horrible."

Clarke laughed again. "That's what my best friend Wells says. He thinks I'm nuts, but I love them both and can't imagine giving either up."

Octavia just shook her head in disbelief. "Well, good luck with that. I can barely manage to sit through a single high-school class."

"Yeah, high school sucks," Clarke sighed, noticing Octavia's expression shift in confusion. "I love the academics, but the vapid gossips, brainless jocks, and pointless private school drama I could do without."

"Must be rough," Octavia murmured, her voice tilting just a bit towards skeptical.

Clarke turned toward her painting with the pretense of cleaning up her supplies, her stomach dropping with embarrassment at her thoughtless comment. She knew what Octavia, a girl from the rough city of Chino who had spent the last week in juvie, must think: _poor little rich girl_. Hastily gathering her things, Clarke faced Octavia again, forcing a bright smile to suppress the awkwardness.

"So, Dad ran out and got bagels from Delphine's for us before he went surfing this morning. They're the best thing this side of L.A. and his favorite, so we should go grab some before he gets to them all."

Clarke hurried past Octavia without waiting for an answer, sighing in relief as she heard the girl's steady footsteps following.

_Way to go, Griffin, _she thought as she made for the house. _No wonder you don't have more friends._

* * *

"God, Wells, I was so embarrassed," Clarke sighed as she slammed her head back against his bed, which she had sprawled across the minute she came into his room.

"You said she was fine with it, that breakfast went well," Wells assured her, looking down with an eye roll from his position leaning against the headboard.

"Yeah, but only because Mom was more awkward than I was. She kept offering Octavia everything in our fridge and you could just tell she was trying too hard to be polite, so of course I seemed nice and normal compared to that. I wanted to explain after breakfast, but it seemed too late, and then Dad had to take her to the office to fill out some paperwork."

"Clarke," Wells drawled with a slight chuckle. "Anyone ever tell you that you care too much about what people think of you?"

"You. Every day. Which is annoying, by the way."

"And yet you keep me around."

"Yeah, otherwise I'd have nobody."

"Don't say that," Wells sighed. "You know, people actually like you, Clarke. You just scare them a little bit."

"Because I don't put up with their elitist crap?"

"Because you keep walls up."

Clarke didn't respond, just studied the pebbly off-white ceiling above her. So, yeah, sure, she had some issues with letting people get close. Not surprising after that incident with Finn and Raven freshman year, but a girl didn't forget her first love. Or when said first love had gotten her caught in a messy love triangle with his sort-of-ex-girlfriend.

"You telling me to break down these walls and let love in?" Clarke asked a cutesy tone.

Wells snorted. "Your words, not mine."

"Well, how's about this for letting my walls down: let's go to that party Murphy is hosting and bring Octavia. It'll get us all out of the house."

"So, you tell Octavia that you hate your terrible classmates only to bring her to a party filled with them?"

"I'm trying to be nice!"

"And throwing her to the wolves is being nice?"

"Hah! There, you agree, they are terrible."

"Not the point, Clarke. You'd really bring her to a Newport party?"

Clarke paused, sighing. "I just—I don't know, maybe it'd be less awful with her there, so I'd actually have someone to talk to?"

"I talk to you!"

"Yes, before you get pulled to dance with that girl, and play flip cup with that guy. Face it, Wells, you're popular."

"They just want to stay on the good side of the principal's kid."

"Or it's because you're actually a decent, friendly, fun person."

"You're going to make me blush."

"Wells Jaha, golden boy of Harborside. Has a nice ring to it."

A pillow suddenly whomped against Clarke's face, and she let out a muffled laugh under its weight. Smacking Wells on the leg, she sat up and threw the pillow aside. "So, are we going?"

"Yeah, yeah. We're going."

Clarke smiled brightly at him before bouncing off the bed and towards the door. "See you later, then. Your adoring public awaits, oh Prince of Harborside."

The pillow flew across the room, aiming for her head, but Clarke ducked and left laughing, calling behind her, "Don't be late!"


	3. Chapter 3

"So," Octavia said dryly. "This is what you people call a beach house." She broke away from staring at the large, three-story, baby blue building, the heavy beat of rap music blasting out the white shuttered windows, to slide a glance at Clarke.

"Yup," Clarke said, also staring up at the house warily.

"And we're about to go in this house that is filled with people you don't like, and probably won't like me because of where I'm from, because you're trying to make me feel welcome?"

Clarke sighed and nodded. "Yup."

"Well, this should be interesting," Octavia joked.

Shaking her head, Clarke snorted then gave a small grin in return. "You ready?"

"Let's go," Octavia replied excitedly, grabbing Clarke's hand and tugging her towards the front door.

Soon they had caught up to Wells, who had been caught up by some friends in the entryway. As she watched him smile and laugh with the guys around him, Octavia saw why he was so popular: he was nice, and attractive, and funny in a dry way. Curiously, she glanced at Clarke, who was watching Wells with a fond expression. The best friends seemed like they'd be a perfect match, but she wasn't picking up any lovey vibes, either mutual or unrequited. At least that was a relief; dealing with relationship drama between friends had never been Octavia's strong suit. Atom drifted through her mind, but she shook it off. No need to bring that disaster of a situation into her thoughts tonight.

Realizing Clarke was still hanging back, even after Wells had followed the guys inside, Octavia turned to her.

"How am I the one who's not scared to go in?" She joked forcefully.

"I'm not scared," Clarke insisted, tearing her eyes away from staring at a bright red sports car sitting in the driveway. Clearly, she knew whose it was and didn't like its presence here.

"Then come on!" Octavia encouraged, ignoring Clarke's discomfort and stepping over the threshold. As she did, with Clarke following right behind, the sounds of teenage chatter and electronic pop music swelled around her. Her heart thrummed in excitement, and she grinned wildly. Now this was familiar territory. Towing Clarke through the crowd, Octavia easily found the keg and grabbed two plastic cups of beer, winking at the very cute guy manning it.

"Drink it," Octavia yelled over the music.

"I don't like beer," Clarke replied, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the cup.

"But I bet you dislike these people more. The beer will help with that."

With a skeptical glance, Clarke took a sip then gagged. Octavia laughed, because that was kind of adorable. Raising her cup, she knocked it lightly against Clarke's and then took a few huge gulps. Clarke smiled hesitantly and then did the same, making a disgusted face after her last round.

"There we go!" Octavia called, squeezing Clarke's arm in approval.

"Just the one," Clarke warned.

"Fine," Octavia groaned mockingly, paused a bit to look around the party, then continued, "God, this is an attractive bunch. I've seen no less than five guys I wouldn't mind finding a dark corner with. Or an empty bedroom."

Clarke choked on her beer. "Ugh, no. I would not recommend that."

"What?"

"Trust me, the guys here? Not worth your time, no matter how gorgeous some of them are."

"I have been in lock-up, you know. Deprived of the male sex for six days is a record for me. One night of no-strings fun couldn't hurt," Octavia joked.

Under her breath, Clarke muttered, "Yeah, until the girlfriend shows up."

Octavia raised her eyebrows, assessing Clarke's disapproving and regretful expression. "Well, there is certainly a story there. Care to share?"

"Not really."

At Clarke's sharp tone, Octavia knew she had pressed on a very sore spot. Taking a quick glance at the swaying bodies across the room, she grinned. "Fine. It's story time, or dance time, you pick."

As she had expected, Clarke's eyes widened. "No dancing."

"Alright, then story time it is!"

Sighing, Clarke rolled her eyes before relenting. "Fine, but let's go outside. I don't feel like screaming over the music."

Octavia followed her blonde friend through the crowd with a bounce in her step. She didn't miss the odd looks sent their way; at first she thought it was because of her, but then she realized Clarke was the center of their attention. Apparently she hadn't been kidding when she said she didn't fit in well with her classmates.

After they had finally pushed their way to a free spot on the deck railing overlooking the dark beach, Clarke, rolling her now-empty cup between her hands, began talking. "Okay, short version: I was hooking up with a guy last year, found out he had a girlfriend. Said girlfriend is pretty popular and well liked at school, which didn't help my already low public opinion at all. He said they were on a break, but she hadn't been aware of that apparently. He wanted to keep things up with me, but not wanting to be in the crosshairs, I ended it. They're still on-again-off-again, and I got over it."

The hurt in Clarke's voice was clear, even this long after the fact, and it resonated with Octavia. She leaned into the railing further, the smooth surface cold against her skin. Her thoughts drifted to Atom again. "My last boyfriend was dick too. Got so jealous he thought he could start invading my privacy, insisting on checking my phone, even tried to lock me in the house one night to keep me from going out with friends, paranoid that I was cheating on him."

Octavia felt Clarke shift uneasily beside her, so she flashed her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I kicked his ass to the curb, threatened him with going to the police. He stole cars for a living, trading them in to local chop shops. So I knew exactly how to nail him, and he backed right off." Then she frowned as the rest of the story resurfaced in her mind, remembering how her brother had found out about the house incident, and the rest of it, and had decided to make doubly sure Atom stayed away from her.

"Care to share?" Clarke said, interrupting her thoughts. She wore an expectant expression, clearly having noticed Octavia's change in mood.

Octavia sighed, realizing fair was fair. "My brother found out about what Atom had been doing and went after him at a bar one night. They had worked on the same construction crew, which is how I had met Atom in the first place. Bellamy took it as a betrayal not just of me, but also of their friendship. Atom ended up in the hospital. If the bartender hadn't been a longtime friend of the family, Bell would've been arrested."

"Holy shit," Clarke murmured, her cup crinkling in her tight grip.

"We Blakes love a little too hard, I guess," Octavia said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

"Wells repeatedly body-checked Finn for me during one of their soccer games," Clarke said, mouth curving up into a half-smile. "Somehow, he managed to convince the coach it was an accident, every time."

Octavia laughed. "Boys are dumb."

Nodding heavily in agreement, Clarke echoed amusedly, "Boys are dumb."

As they smiled at each other knowingly, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the beach, Octavia was suddenly glad she had ended up here. Clarke was quiet, maybe too serious at times, but she had a steadiness to her that felt balancing. Turning to thank Clarke for welcoming her in, she noticed a group of girls approaching them.

"Surprised you'd show here, Griffin," the girl at the front said, stepping forward. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, a fierce expression on her face. As she crossed her arms, her red crop top rode up, exposing a pierced belly button. Octavia felt her hackles rise in defense of her friend and glared at the newcomer.

"Murphy invited Wells, Wells invited me," Clarke said coolly. "So take it up with them."

"I just don't know why you would bother coming. It's not like you have any friends here."

Annoyed at the brunette's rudeness, Octavia interjected, "She has me."

"And you are?"

"Someone who could kick your ass," she retorted menacingly, pushing off the railing to lean into the other's girl's space just a bit. Sizing her up, Octavia figured she could take her, despite the brunette appearance of being in very good shape.

"Well, it looks like the princess finally found a bodyguard," the girl jibed.

"Don't call me that," Clarke said sharply, stepping up to Octavia's side.

With an angry glance, the girl spat out, "Guess you only like it when Finn calls you that, huh?"

"Clarke!" A familiar voice called out, and the whole group turned to look at Wells, who was pushing his way through the crowd towards them. "There you are. I've been looking for you and Octavia for forever. Ladies," he said, nodding nervously at the other girls. His glance lingered a bit too long on the brunette, a soft wanting glazing over his brown eyes. Octavia choked back a laugh, because oh boy, did Wells have it bad for this girl.

The brunette didn't even give Wells a second glance, keeping her focus on Clarke instead. "Oh look, now the prince has shown up. You ever fight your own battles, Clarke?"

"Go away, Raven," Clarke responded evenly.

"You want to go get a drink?" Wells asked Raven, clearly trying to divert her attention away from Clarke. Frowning, Clarke shot him an annoyed glance. Octavia watched as Raven noticed Clarke's disapproval and grinned widely, placing her head smoothly on Wells shoulder.

"Only if you are the one pour it for me," she said, voice rising flirtatiously.

Wells laughed nervously, throwing a pleading look at Clarke, who just scowled in return. Not caring about the exchange, Raven just grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the house, her friends following close behind.

"Well she is a ray of sunshine. No wonder her boyfriend wanted to cheat on her," Octavia growled.

"Raven is—there's more to her than that," Clarke said in a tired voice. Octavia looked at her skeptically before she continued, "After the whole debacle, while Finn was trying to explain himself, he told me some things about her family, about her mom. Let's just say she's more bark than bite."

"If you say so," Octavia mused doubtfully.

"God, I need another drink," Clarke moaned, dropping her head to the deck railing.

Laughing, Octavia replied, "Now that I can fully support. Let's go."

* * *

"I have to pee," Clarke yelled over the music into Octavia's ear.

"Again?" Octavia replied amusedly as she swayed next to Clarke on the dance floor. "You just went fifteen minutes ago."

"You're the one who wanted to do another round of drinks, so this is your fault," Clarke teased in a tipsy voice.

"Fine, but meet me outside after you're done. I need some air."

Octavia squeezed Clarke's hand as she left, maneuvering through the grinding crowd to find the exit. Dodging drunk bros and giggling girls, Octavia finally made her way to the deck, down the stairs, and hopped down onto the soft, warm sand. She kicked off her shoes, gathering them up in her left hand, and walked down towards the water, passing pockets of people gossiping and laughing. A warm summer breeze rolled down beach, throwing her hair into wild disarray. As it whipped around her, Octavia smiled, reveling in the freedom. She hurried towards the water, eager to feel it on her legs. Without caution, she splashed in, letting out a quiet shriek at the chilly temperature.

"Don't you know it's not safe to go swimming in the dark?"

Octavia whipped around, eyes landing a boy with flopping brown hair grinning at her from the edge of the water line.

"Don't you know it's a bit creepy to sneak up on a random girl?" She quipped back.

"Well, since I'm friends with the guy who lives here, how about you tell me who you are, because I haven't seen you around school. You could be a trespasser for all I know." He quirked his lips in amusement, eyes twinkling with humor.

"I know Wells," she said, guessing the stranger would be more receptive to his name than Clarke's.

Surprisingly, the boy's expression fell, darkening a bit. "You with him?"

"Just friends," she said. "He's not my type. Besides, he has a thing for someone else." Suddenly, Octavia shivered, the cold water finally getting to her.

"You should get out, before you lose your toes," the boy advised.

"Don't tell me what to do," Octavia sniffed teasingly, marching out of the water and passing him.

With a laugh, he followed her up the beach. As she approached one of the many abandoned campfires, he stood next to her, knocking his shoulder into hers.

"So, do I get a name?"

"Maybe," she said, looking at him through her eyelashes. He was cute, in a puppy dog way, and would make a fun distraction for the night.

Slowly, he reached up, pushing her tangled hair behind one ear. Octavia couldn't help but blush as his fingers brushed warmly against her cheek.

"That better?" He asked lowly.

"Finn! There you are!"

Startled, Octavia pulled away turned to see Raven storming towards them. The name suddenly clicked in her head, and she glared at the boy next to her.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, sliding quickly away to the other side of the fire. She stared at the flickering flames as Raven sidled up next to Finn and brushed her hand against his arm. "I've been looking for you," Raven murmured in his ear, though not quietly enough to keep Octavia from listening in.

"Yeah?" Finn asked, glancing towards Octavia. She glared stonily back, watching Raven frown at the exchange. Shaking it off, the girl turned back to Finn.

"Thought you'd be looking for me too. You said you wanted to talk, you know, about cotillion, and you know, us."

Finn smiled thinly, sliding an arm around Raven's waist. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and the deep affection in it surprised Octavia. Given his history with Clarke and his flirting with her just now, she had expected him to be the stereotypical skeeze. As she watched him melt against Raven, who also seemed softer in their embrace, Octavia realized Clarke had been right, that things were trickier with them than it appeared.

As she carefully watched them, she heard loud voices approach.

"Octavia!" Clarke called out happily, clearly not having seen the pair with her.

Wells tried to pull her back, glancing warily at the bristling Raven and uncomfortable Finn, but the blonde continued to drunkenly stumble their way. Octavia rushed to meet her, but by then, Wells and Clarke had fallen within the light of the fire. She heard Raven laugh abrasively behind her as Clarke tripped on the uneven sand.

"Oh," Clarke said, her voice wavering as she realized whom Octavia was with, cheeks reddening.

Raven tightened her arm around Finn's waist, eyes narrowing at Clarke. "Seems like somebody still has a little bit of a crush," she taunted, and Clarke's cheeks flamed brighter. "Oh, look at that, she's blushing. How cute."

"Looks like someone still has massive insecurity issues. Bitch," Octavia muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Raven said, pulling away from Finn and stepping aggressively towards her.

"Oh, I called you an insecure bitch. Did I not say it clearly enough?"

Raven lunged, and her fist connected with Octavia's eye before she could duck. _Damn, too slow - Bell would be disappointed,_ she thought dazedly as she straightened, trying to regain focus so she could retaliate. Throwing out a punch herself, she hit Raven's chin, causing Finn to shout in protest. As Raven came at her again, an outraged cry sounded at Octavia's side, followed by a flash of blonde.

"Clarke, no!" Wells called out, and Octavia looked up, head throbbing, seeing him restraining a furious Clarke from attacking Raven. "Let's go, come on, let's go," he pleaded. As Wells tried to calm Clarke and Finn herded Raven down the beach, Octavia sucked in a large gulp of salty air. _Be smart, O,_ her brother's voice warned in her head. Glancing up at the deck, where a large crowd was staring and whispering at the commotion with phones out and probably documenting everything, she nodded at Wells.

"We need to go," she said, stomach sinking as the charges of _underage drinking_ and _assault_ _and battery_ flashed in her mind. She was sure Mr. Griffin would surely drop her case if the police came, especially given she had dragged his daughter into this.

"Clarke was supposed drive us home," Wells finally answered.

"Shit," she said. "I didn't know. It's my fault she's drunk."

Wells sighed. "Trust me, Clarke doesn't do anything she doesn't want to. She's stubborn that way. I'll have to call my brother to come get us."

"Let's head towards the driveway in the meantime," Octavia advised, as the crowd on the deck hadn't lessened.

"Good idea," Wells agreed. He wrapped an arm around Clarke's waist and tuckered her into his side.

"You are good friends," Clarke mused sleepily.

Octavia laughed, her worry momentarily eased, and moved over to support her other side. "Back at you, tiger."

* * *

By the time green Jeep wrangler pulled up in front of the house, Clarke had fallen asleep against Wells, who was doing an impressive job at keeping her upright. When they walked to the car to get in, Octavia's heart leapt as she realized who was in the driver's seat.

"Lincoln," she said in surprise. When he gave her a soft smile, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks.

"Octavia," he replied, voice low and even.

Wells looked up from his struggles with buckling Clarke into the backseat, "You two know each other?"

"We met the other night," Lincoln clarified briefly. "Hurry up, little brother. We need to get back before Dad gets home from the hospital."

He glanced at Octavia quickly, a question in his eyes. Grinning, she hopped into the front seat. "Shotgun," she called out cheerfully.

"Mm, good," Clarke hummed. "Now I can use Wells as a pillow."

Lincoln chuckled at that, and said, "Glad to see your finally going through your wild-child phase, Clarke."

Mumbling a half-hearted protest, Clarke fell back asleep, her head thunking against Wells' shoulder as he buckled himself in finally. With an amused sigh, Lincoln pulled slowly out of the driveway, guiding the car onto the road with steady movements. Octavia watched his arms flex as he turned the steering wheel, feeling her throat dry up as she imagined them doing the same thing, except wrapped around her. When he looked over at her, he must've seen what she was thinking, because his eyes darkened and his mouth curved into a wary half-smile.

"You're trouble," Lincoln whispered, glancing in the rearview mirror as if to make sure his words were heard by only her.

"Like you care," she murmured back. He laughed quietly again, and Octavia snuggled down into her seat, a pleased, happy feeling welling in her chest. As the car sped down the coastal roads, a sleepy haze fell over her. She could barely keep her eyes open by the time they pulled into the Griffins' dark driveway. Taking a minute to wake up, Octavia stayed in the car as Wells maneuvered a now fully asleep Clarke from the backseat. As she went to reach for the handle of the door, it opened, and Lincoln was standing there. He extended a hand, smiling at her. Grabbing it gently, Octavia hopped down from the car, bringing her suddenly chest-to-chest with Lincoln. Her breath caught, and she tipped her head up to stare at him. His brown eyes had that dark look in them again, and she shivered despite the warm end-of-summer breeze wafting around them.

Then, like a bucket of cold water, reality dropped down on her as she focused on the house behind Lincoln, the one that wasn't hers. She wasn't Clarke's cousin from D.C.; she wasn't the girl he thought she was, the one he had met at the end of this very driveway.

Looking away quickly, Octavia stepped around him and said, "I should go. Wells, let's take Clarke to the pool house. Less chance of her parents waking up than if we take her to her room."

Wells nodded in agreement, and started off around the side of the house. Octavia followed him, not looking at Lincoln. Just as she rounded the corner, though, she did give him one last glance. _What could it hurt? She'd be gone by Sunday, anyways._ He hadn't moved from his position by the car, just stared after her intensely, the same way he had last night. His gaze caught her up, made her pause.

Unable to resist, she called out, "Thanks for the ride!"

A slow, intimate smile spread across Lincoln's face, causing Octavia's mouth to do the same. Then she quickly turned, running off like she had before, the smile remaining even as she helped Wells get Clarke into bed, even as she crawled in beside her new friend and slipped into a restful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke almost retched when she opened her eyes in the morning, her dry mouth tasting of stale beer and beach salt. The annoyingly bright sunlight streaming in through the glass doors of the pool house caused the throbbing in her head to intensify, and she groaned as she rolled off the bed. Sitting up didn't help the nausea, so Clarke stumbled to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach emptied itself of the alcohol and party food from last night.

"Clarke, you okay?" Octavia called out sleepily from the other room.

"I'm fine," she called back before heaving into the toilet again. _This is why I never go to parties. This is why I never drink_, Clarke thought miserably as her stomach clenched painfully for a third time.

Cool hands suddenly gathered the tangled hair from around her face, twisting it around at the base of her neck. "Let me help," Octavia said, voice kind and regretful. "I'm sorry, I get a bit carried away with having fun sometimes."

"Not your fault I can't hold my liquor, or that I don't know my limits," Clarke replied, managing a small smile. "And I needed to get carried away with fun for a little while."

Octavia returned the smile, squeezing Clarke's arm gently, but before she could reply, they both heard the sound of the pool house door open abruptly.

"Clarke?" Her mother called frantically.

Groaning, Clarke leaned back from the toilet, grabbing a towel and wiping her mouth clean. With an apologetic glance at Octavia, she answered, "In here."

Abby soon appeared in the bathroom doorway, worried lines set into her face and a bathrobe hanging haphazardly off her delicate but strong frame. "Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Clarke asserted, trying to stand, but her stomach had other ideas. As she vomited again, her mother swooped down, laying a careful hand on her back.

"You're sick?" Her mother asked concernedly, but when Clarke pulled back, her mother's expression narrowed, taking in Clarke's haggard face and red-rimmed eyes. "You're hungover."

"No," Clarke claimed quickly. "Something at dinner must not have settled with my stomach last night." Even Octavia winced at that lie, giving her a rueful glance that said, _you couldn't have come up with anything better?_

"Clarke," her mother said, voice tight and angry. "Don't lie to me."

Then her mother finally noticed Octavia, mouth pursing as she took in the girl's black eye. Standing, she ground out, "Let's all meet in the kitchen in ten minutes. I'm sure your father will also like to hear your explanation for not being in your own bed this morning, as well as your 'illness' and Octavia's injury."

As Abby strode out of the bathroom with angry footsteps, Clarke slumped against the wall, sighing.

Octavia soon plopped down on the floor beside her, nudging her foot as she said, "Seems one night of friendship will have to be enough, as it looks like I'm headed back to foster care. I guess getting the lawyer's daughter drunk wasn't my best idea."

The sad bravado in her voice made Clarke straighten up, and her mouth tightened in determination. "None of this was your fault. I make my own decisions. And my parents will just have to accept that fact. You're not going anywhere."

* * *

When Clarke and Octavia reached the door leading from the patio into the kitchen, raised voices echoed through the glass. Hesitating to go inside, Clarke winced as she realized her mother and father were arguing about Octavia. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed the doors open and loudly asked, "So, I'm feeling like scrambled eggs today, what about you guys?"

Her smile felt brittle on her lips as she faced her parents, who were staring at each other intensely across the kitchen island. Her father was the first one to break away, turning to the girls with exasperated admonishment in his eyes. His lips curved up into a tight but fond smile, and some of the knots in Clarke's chest released, thankful that at least one of her parents might be a little bit on her side. Her mother continued to frown, and for the moment, Clarke chose to ignore the concern in her eyes, because it was easier to be mad at her mom by conveniently forgetting that her mother's behavior came from a place of loving worry.

"I made pancakes," her mother said shortly, and Clarke nodded.

"Okay, that works too. Octavia?"

Clarke turned to her friend, who was hanging back and uncharacteristically reserved.

"Sounds great," Octavia replied evenly, flashing a small smile at the room.

"Jake, why don't you and Octavia get situated while I have a word with Clarke about the casino event tonight?"

"Abby—"

"We'll be right there," her mother interrupted, sending a _follow me _glare at Clarke that brooked no argument. As Clarke moved away, she felt Octavia squeeze her hand.

"_I'm sorry_," she mouthed at Clarke again as she followed Jake to the table. Clarke shook her head vehemently in protest and rolled her eyes, which made Octavia laugh. Walking towards her mother, Clarke kept her shoulders straight, flicking an annoyed look in her direction as they passed into the front family room.

"You know you're not getting out of helping to set up for the event tonight, right?" Her mother muttered as they stopped in front of the couch.

"That was never my intention," Clarke protested, narrowing her eyes. True, she hadn't been enthusiastic about contributing to the casino night planning, even after Wells had talked her into it by saying it was just one more thing to add to her college applications. _Plus, it will prep you for when you plan events for your art shows_, he had teased, bumping his hip against hers playfully.

Face furrowed in growing anger at Clarke's tone, Abby asked, "Then what was your intention, might I add? Or what was Octavia's, I guess?"

"I'm not going to make a habit of it. And for the last time, it wasn't Octavia's fault. _I'm_ the one who chose to drink, not her."

"So it's just a coincidence that she comes to our home, and now my underage daughter is waking up hungover, vomiting up liquor from the night before? You never had any interest in those parties, even Wells can never convince you to go, but suddenly Octavia's here and it's Clarke-gone-wild."

"Oh my god, it was one party!" Clarke cried out, voice rising in frustration. "And I didn't go to the parties before because the people there are vapid and self-centered and I have no interest in being friends with them! Octavia at least treats me like a normal person and not a freak for having more interesting hobbies than evening out my tan and trying to snag the hottest guy on the lacrosse team. God forbid I finally have some fun and a friend other than Wells."

Her mother huffed and crossed her arms defensively, but before she could respond, the doorbell rang loudly and repeatedly.

"I'll get it!" Clarke called, darting around her mother and hurrying into the front hall. With a faint smile on her face, because the interruption could not have come at a better time, Clarke yanked the door open. As she blinked in the sudden sunlight, her smile fell in shock as she took in the extremely attractive guy glaring at her from the other side of the threshold. He looked a bit on the older side, fairly tall with broad shoulders, brown curls framing a freckled face, and dressed in a plain red shirt and well-worn jeans.

"Is this the Griffin residence?" He asked shortly, dark brown eyes flicking up and down her figure, narrowing at the bright pink sleep shorts and wrinkled oversized T-shirt. Clarke blushed, trying to smooth her wild curls behind her ear. Before she could stammer out a reply, the guy pushed past her, muttering, "Surprised there's not a butler."

Clarke stumbled back and narrowly avoided having her toes crushed by his scuffed sneakers, snapping her out of her dazed reverie. "Hey!" She barked, grabbing his elbow. "It's common courtesy to wait to be invited into someone's house, you know."

The guy shook her hand off with ease, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Sorry, they didn't offer Miss Manners classes in my neck of the woods."

At the comment, Clarke felt her cheeks flare with heat, this time from anger rather than embarrassment. _What a jackass._ Ignoring the fact that she had indeed been enrolled in etiquette classes during middle school—her grandfather's wishes, not hers—Clarke opened her mouth to chew him out.

He beat her to it, however. "Octavia!" He called out, heading determinedly for the kitchen.

It took Clarke a minute to follow him, as she slowly realized that he must be the brother—Bellamy, she recalled—whom Octavia had talked so fondly about last night. As she hurried after him, excited squeals sounded from the kitchen. When Clarke reached the room, she felt her irritation dwindle as she saw how tightly Octavia had wrapped herself around her brother, with eyes squeezed shut and an ecstatic smile on her face as they embraced. Bellamy's grip on his sister was no less intense, and his low, happy murmurings into Octavia's ear almost made Clarke smile.

"You must be Bellamy," her father interrupted in a friendly tone, extending a hand. After brief hesitation, Bellamy let Octavia go and shook his hand firmly. Jake smiled, then gestured towards the breakfast spread on the table. "We were just about to sit down to eat. Join us. I'm sure Octavia would love that."

Clarke saw her mother frown slightly, glancing at her husband in irritation. Clearly Abby wasn't feeling as generous regarding their guest. Clarke was torn between relief at delaying their argument and apprehension at sharing meal with the guy who had been so rude to her, so she took her time sitting down. Like always, her father sat at the head of the table, with her mother to his right. Octavia had taken Clarke's usual seat at Jake's left, with Bellamy next to her. When Clarke pulled out her chair and plopped into it, she saw Bellamy glance at her from across the table, face unreadable.

As her father and Octavia chattered away, Clarke poured herself a glass of juice. Picking it up, she looked straight at Bellamy and deliberately stuck out her pinky finger in mock pretentiousness. She sent him a pointed stare as she took a long sip with pursed lips, still keeping the finger raised. When his eyes narrowed at her teasing, she almost choked on her juice in amusement.

"You alright, Clarke?" Her dad asked suddenly, looking at her with a puzzled expression.

"I'm fine," she replied, gritting her teeth as she heard Bellamy let out a muffled laugh.

With a last, bemused glance, her father resumed talking with Octavia, and that was when Clarke realized somehow Octavia and her brother had been invited to casino night at the club with them. From the way her mother was smiling tensely, she guessed that her dad was going to get an earful later. While Clarke was glad Octavia would be going, she felt less than thrilled that Bellamy would also there. Seeing the club would just reinforce every preconception he had about her family. Since he seemed to be the most important person in Octavia's life, Clarke worried his opinions would influence his sister's and that she would lose a friend over it. Octavia was like a breath of fresh air among the staleness of her peers, and Clarke didn't want to go back to how it had been.

"Won't this be fun, Bell?" Octavia said excitedly.

"I don't own a tux," he grunted out.

"Oh, we can scrounge up one for you," Jake added before turning to Clarke. "You think Wells or Lincoln would have one he could borrow? I think my extra one may be a bit too big—and I won't even consider suggesting you wear the one from my younger days. Blue was all the rage back then, but now it's disturbingly uncool, as my daughter would say," he finished kindly.

Bellamy smiled just a bit, because not even a grump like him could resist the Jake Griffin charm. Clarke felt her face flush traitorously, because even that small flex of his lips completely transformed his face, calling her attention back to exactly how attractive he was. Looking away quickly, because the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was going moony over him, Clarke pulled out her phone to text Wells.

"On it," she muttered, finishing the message as she said, "And Octavia, you can borrow something of mine if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we can pick out something this afternoon.""

"Awesome!"

"Remember you have to be at the club by three to help set up," her mother warned.

Pursing her lips, Clarke replied tightly, "I'll be there, don't worry."

"Can I help?" Octavia asked in a tentative tone, glancing carefully between Clarke and her parents. "It's the least I can do, in repayment for the invitation."

Clarke watched her mother consider the offer, because as complicated as she thought it would be to explain Octavia to the other club mothers, they really did need the help. Abby Griffin never turned down an extra pair of hands for events like this, always being worried something would go wrong at the last minute.

"Sure," she finally said with a tired smile. "Come along with Clarke, and we'll find you something to do."

"Looking forward to it," Octavia said, nudging her brother as he stared intently at Abby and then Clarke.

"I'm sorry, I have a work shift this afternoon," he said shortly in response to his sister's less-than-subtle hint. "Putting myself through college isn't easy."

"Ah, I remember those days," Jake said fondly. "Worked as a valet my first two years at UCLA, then as the manager of the overnight shift at a local campus bar. Kept it up my first year of law school, too, until a scholarship kicked in."

Bellamy blinked in surprise, and Clarke couldn't help feel a little bit smug at the mistaken assumption he had made.

"I work as a bartender during the year, but in the summer I tutor middle- and high-school kids," Bellamy admitted carefully, his tense shoulders relaxing just a bit as he and Jake started trading funny bartending stories.

Octavia caught Clarke's attention and rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders in a _'what am I going to do with him'_ gesture. Hiding a smile, Clarke ducked her head as she picked at the syrup-drenched pancakes on her plate. When her phone went off, she hoped it was Wells telling her the Jahas had no extra tuxes and that Bellamy was out of luck. Clarke was the one out of luck, however, and she grudgingly revealed to the group that Wells had several tuxes on hold for him to try on. Bellamy looked no more pleased than she felt at the announcement, which mollified Clarke just a bit.

"Thanks again for the invite, Dr. and Mr. Griffin! This is going to be fun," Octavia remarked happily. Clarke's gaze collided with Bellamy's and she almost laughed at the mournful reluctance she saw in it. He quirked a smile at her, clearly reading similar sentiments in her expression, and Clarke grinned back, content to be on the same page with him on just this one topic.


End file.
